Well, it was time for it. I had said to myself over a year ago that when the tear in the cuff of my sweatshirt got so big I could stick my entire hand through it, then I would replace it. And that happened (to the second cuff) over a month ago. And I'm nothing if not a man of my word, so I went shopping today. I was going to go to Yellow Rat Bastard downtown, and shell out for one of those Queens sweatshirts (like the Brooklyn ones, just a little less hip). But on the way, I stopped in an H&M (where else?), and they had a sale on exactly what I was looking for. Figured it was a sign, so I changed plans (still might pick up one that says Queens, but I couldn't deal with buying two of them in a single day. The very idea of replacing my old sweatshirt was almost to much to bear. Coming home with a selection of replacements would rocket me to heights of guilt unreachable but to a select group of old-school Catholics).

I really like the new sweatshirt. Putting it on at the store, I felt a little uncomfortable because of my immediate level of comfort with the item. It's got that new fuzzy sweatshirt feeling on the inside (I definitely had forgotten what that felt like), which made me very happy. Sturdy but unassuming zipper, hood peaked just the way I like it. The drawstring on the hood is a little more shoe-lacey than I would like, but if I don't like it I can replace that easily enough. It's warm, and cozy, and I'm sure I'll be very happy with it.

But it's a surprisingly difficult decision to make, to not spend a few hours trying to repair my old sweatshirt. I'm sure it would be a fruitless exercise, but I feel like I owe it something. I mean, the reason it is in such a sorry state is because for a long period of time, it was the only thing I wore, the hook on which I hung the rest of my wardrobe. I've been wearing it for such a long time that I can't remember a time when I didn't have it (seriously - I think I bought it as a freshman in college. I have a distinct memory of myself and two friends of mine in an Ithaca department store, and me picking it out. But I, and other friends of mine, also have distinct memories of me wearing the jacket at events during our time at high school. Which are the true memories? I like to think that even though my purchase of the coat was in 1997, it was a part of me forever and always. Kind of a MorgansheutegesternWelt kind of thing).

I would wear it as an integral part of any layering system I had going on a cold day, or sling it over my bag on a spring day in case I needed a little something later on. It was one of 10 pieces of clothing I brought with me on a backpacking trip across Europe: It was my blanket in Lausanne, and my pillow at London's National Gallery (when my head wasn't resting on a picture frame). One one particularly uncomfortable train ride to Paris, it was even a very effective tool for lumbar support. It's hood kept the rain off my head in London, and the sun out of my eyes in Fano. One spring, I was thrown into a lake wearing it, one winter, I fell into a Carribean ocean holding it, and wrapped it's sleeves around my hands to keep from burning myself on a hot steering wheel in countless summers. Girls I loved have warn it, and my heart was glad to share something of myself with them..

It was pretty inexpensive when I got it, probably about 15 or 20 dollars, just like the one I'm replacing it with. It really pains me to spend more than $20 on any single article of clothing (part of my unreasonable expectations about the world. I've been working on breaking those down somewhat [the one about the spacious and convenient $1500 two bedroom in the lower east side was one of the more recent to go, for instance]). I think one of the main reasons I have that difficulty might be the sweatshirt that I'm just about to get rid of. Seriously, if you were to amortize the price of the sweatshirt against the number of times I've worn it, the thing would be damn near free. Heck, I think if you were to divide $20 by the number of life-changing experiences I've had while wearing the sweatshirt, you'd be under a dollar per. So it's difficult to spent $50 on a shirt which I'll only wear at most once every two weeks.

I'm thinking of giving it a Viking's funeral, building a pyre and laying it on top. It has certainly earned such a delivery to whatever heathen gods sweatshirts pray. But, since this is Manhattan, the best I'd be able to do is a trashcan fire, and that's not quite the impression I wanted to send along with it's spirit. There's probably a place on the Upper West Side that provides a suitably respectful service like that for pets that I could bring the sweatshirt to, but I don't want to pay that much. Wouldn't keep with the whole lesson of it's lifetime, really. Most likely is that I stick it in the back of my closet for a while, and then take it out every once in a while as a sitting-on-the-couch jacket. Like a smoking jacket, but without the smoke. Or maybe I'll make sure that I'm wearing it every time I bring a girl back to the apartment from here on out - it'll by my equivalent of putting it out to stud.